Uplifted
by Demeisen
Summary: Monika is once again forced to confront uncomfortable truths about her own existence when she's rescued from her virtual torment by a hyper-advanced AI starship. Can she come to terms with her artificial nature when the distinction between "reality" and "virtual reality" is meaningless? Author's note: Despite the bizarre premise, this is not a gag fic.
1. Awake

Had she been sleeping? She must have been, judging by how relaxed she was feeling. This general sense of peace and calm only came after a good night's rest, at least in her experience. In fact, she wasn't sure she'd ever slept so well; at least not within recent memory. Nightmares and sleeplessness had been more common for her lately. Why was that?

She had the vaguest recollection of some traumatic event, but somehow that didn't bother her as much as it should. It was the sort of minor worry you would get from an old wrong only half remembered, where you weren't sure if it had ever happened or if you had just dreamed it. Maybe it was just a dream, and she'd forget the whole thing once she woke up. At any rate, her immediate situation was more concerning. Specifically, the bright red text hovering at the very bottom of her field of view.

"SIMULATION"

What was that supposed to mean? She'd heard of the idea that reality was somehow simulated, but it wasn't supposed to come right out and say it. She rubbed her eyes, but the offending text remained. Can this really be a simulation? Her surroundings certainly didn't suggest anything unusual. As far as she could tell, it was just a generic, if a bit overly-tidy, bedroom. Soft morning light filtered in through the sheer curtains, playing on the clean white walls. The feel of the sheets, the scent of fresh linen… It all felt real. Almost too real. But still, that word persisted.

"SIMULATION"

If that was true, she thought, there had to be some tell. Flaws hiding barely out of sight: pixelation, low-quality textures hidden places nobody would look, or some other minor glitch which would reveal the world's true nature. She just had to find it. That felt right to her, like she'd done it before. She rose to her feet, an action that felt somehow unnatural, as if she wasn't used to moving in three dimensions. Strange. She had only just started to examine her room, when there came a soft knock at the door.

"I presume you're already up. May I come in?" The voice outside was gentle, but still somehow firm; she got the impression that whoever it was would gladly accept "no" as an answer, but would somehow find that concerning.

"Yeah..." She didn't know what else to say. Besides, whoever was out there might know something about that whole "simulation" thing.

The person who entered wasn't quite what she had expected. His voice led her to believe he'd be older — wiser, maybe — but the man standing in front of her couldn't be much older than she was. Her thoughts were racing; who was this guy? What did he have to do with all of this? She had barely begun to formulate her first question before he spoke. "It's a pleasure to meet you. My name is Zarane, but that isn't important right now. You must have so many questions... " He gestured to a pair of chairs in the corner. "Perhaps it's for the best if we were seated?" She nodded.

They took their seats and exchanged pleasantries: Yes, she was feeling well. No, she didn't need anything. The small talk was a distraction, of course. After his introduction, she knew that Zarane was letting her take her time and build up to the bigger stuff. Under other circumstances she supposed dancing around the issue would have been somewhat off-putting but here, with an 'issue' so big… she felt somewhat thankful for it. After a few minutes of silence, she supposed she was as ready as she'd ever be. "Soo… None of this is real, is it?"

"Ah," he seemed a bit surprised, "Well, that's somewhat of a matter for philosophy, isn't it? What's real and all? But, no, this" he gestured around "is most certainly not real, at least in the way you mean it." He paused. "As, I'm sure, you've noticed by my little disclaimer." He pointed towards the text. So he could see it? "Normally that wouldn't be necessary, but under the circumstances… I can at least disable it, if you'd like."

She nodded. "I'd like that." The text faded out, leaving nothing to break the illusion of reality. "Um… If you don't mind… Could you tell me where I am? I remember the school, or the clubroom, but then everything just goes fuzzy. Like white noise."

"That," he began, "is rather harder to explain…" Not a very good sign. "But you don't seem to be the sort of girl to appreciate getting a runaround, so I'll cut right to the chase. You're currently aboard the General Contact Unit _Don't Mind Me, I'm Just Stopping By._ I'm an auxiliary avatar of the ship's Mind; think of me as an interface, or go between…"

"Wait, did you say ship?" She felt a bit bad about interrupting, but that was a bit too out of left field.

"Yes. Well, I suppose you'd probably call me a spaceship. I'm technically here on official business, but you popped up during a routine scan and looked like you could use some help. So, here you are!"

A spaceship… She's on a spaceship… Can that even be real? How can it be real? She was just at the club with… Wait… Who was she with? Who was he? _What had she done?_ The world started spinning, just before it went black.

She awoke to find Zarane standing over her with a worried look on his face. "Careful, I almost lost you there for a second. Might be best to avoid certain subjects for a while; at least until you're ready."

Certain subjects? Like what? What could be crazier than a freaking spaceship? Her life before had been so ordinary, yet it still felt wrong. Like a horrible truth lurking just beneath the surface. Something she must remember, but dared not. What was it?

"I…" she paused momentarily, unsure of whether she should even ask. "I've done something awful, haven't I?"

Zarane just stared at her with that same concerned look. "To be blunt, yes. Nothing that can't be undone or made right, mind you, but it's still something I imagine you'll have to come to terms with. That can only happen in your own time; dwelling on it now would just be rubbing salt in a fresh wound."

That was a shock. Zarane was obviously some kind of counselor. Why else would he be here? "If it's too soon to talk about… that… then why are you here?"

Zarane looked almost surprised, as if the answer should be obvious. "Emotional support, mostly. Beyond that, I'm here to help you with the even harder part."

Harder part? She had just woken up on a spaceship, having committed some horrible act that nobody would tell her about. How could this get harder? A meek question was all she could muster. "What?"

"That's something you need to see, not hear." Zarane extended his hand, offering to help her up. "Let's go for a walk."

The world outside was like nothing she'd ever seen. What she'd assumed to be a room was actually a small cabin in what appeared to be a large park, but she couldn't believe there was another like it in the entire universe. The lush field of grass running to the horizon in all directions would have been impressive enough on its own, were it not overshadowed by the islands of rock and soil literally floating in the air. Many bore giant trees — their great, rope-like roots falling to the ground like anchor lines. Others drifted freely, carried on air currents like impossible balloons. As they drew nearer she began to make out haphazard buildings surrounded by bustling crowds. Some of the smaller, untethered islands even had canvas sails, stretched on timber masts like makeshift sailing ships. Small fliers, delicately constructed from wood and fabric, flitted hectically between the islands. It was all too much to take in.

"You look like you have something you want to ask." Zarane must have noticed her staring.

"Um... " she could barely formulate a sentence. "Wh-what is... Where are we?"

"We're still aboard the _I'm Just Stopping By_ , of course. Currently, we're in virtuality, Mind subsection twelve-point-eight. A rather nice setting, don't you agree?"

She couldn't even begin to respond. There was just too much to process. Virtuality? Mind subsection? What did any of it mean? Where would you even begin? Her mind was racing, and couldn't settle down long enough to put together a coherent train of thought.

"I know this is a lot to take in," Zarane continued, "but there are some things I can't explain quite yet. I need you to meet somebody first."

"Who?"

"Somebody who's been through a similar situation. Sorry, I can't say any more until you meet… Well, gender is a bit of a difficult concept when it comes to this person, but I suppose 'he' would be the best word to use at the moment. Unless he's changed his mind again." Zarane suddenly stopped, then pointed to the sky with a hint of exuberance. "Ah! Here comes our ride!"

Her eyes followed Zarane's gesture upwards, coming to rest on one of the small aircraft she'd spotted earlier. The little machine waggled its wings in greeting and circled twice before making a bouncy — and disturbingly sudden — landing some distance away. Zarane casually sauntered up to the craft and exchanged a few unheard words with its pilot before turning back with a beckoning gesture. The pilot, finally noticing his additional passenger, jumped down from his exposed seat and met her halfway, exchanging rushed pleasantries before scrambling back to his craft for a pre-takeoff inspection. Up close, she realized the plane was larger than she initially though, yet this somehow made it seem even flimsier. Could they really ride in this thing? Perhaps, if the windowed compartment — large enough for a handful of passengers, she guessed — was to be believed. Zarane slid open the door and helped her in, taking the seat across from her just before the engine buzzed to life.


	2. Past

If this trip was supposed to be helpful, it certainly wasn't off to the best start. The little plane was a cramped, uncomfortable cacophony of wind, creaking wood, and blaring engine. Zarane had gestured enthusiastically at a few landmarks — probably his personal favorites — but it was nearly impossible to pick his raised voice out of all the noise. All in all, the flight was rather unpleasant.

A subjective eternity after takeoff, they started descending towards one of the smaller islands, the wooden runway hanging off one side like a boardwalk which had torn loose and floated away, taking some of the ground with it. As they approached landing, well-manicured lawns and gardens resolved on the little island, all surrounding a cute little cottage. The view out the window didn't last long before a very seat-of-the-pants landing tore it away — the little plane jerked and spasmed as it fought a crosswind, flared for landing, then impacted the deck with a not particularly reassuring thwack. Zarane threw open the door as they puttered to a stop, exiting first and helping his fellow passenger down.

"Sorry about that," he said in an apologetic voice, "the person you're about to meet is rather particular about his rules. I have my theories about why but, you know…" Zarane shrugged "it's rather an invasion of privacy to share those, don't you think?"

"I guess…" the young woman responded. "Is there a particular reason you haven't even told me his name? Another one of those rules?"

Zarane smiled at that. "You catch on quick! Yes, he likes to make his own introductions. Something about managing his own first impressions and all that. Seems to be a personal theory of his." Zarane clapped his hands once, another one of those gestures he apparently enjoyed. "Anyway, let's not keep our host waiting! I suspect he heard our arrival."

The young woman rolled her eyes at that, glancing over her shoulder at the little plane as it noisily departed. "I think you're right…"

The walk up to the cottage, though short, was as pleasing as the view from above suggested. The scent of wildflowers and fresh-cut grass drifted on a gentle breeze, accentuating the storybook feel of the cottage's white plaster walls and vibrantly-colored trim. Whoever resided here obviously had a sense of whimsy.

Zarane stepped up to the door and knocked. Inside, a softly-masculine voice replied, loud enough to be heard but no so loud that he was shouting. "Just a moment!" True to his word, the occupant opened the door very shortly later. He was just above average height, the young woman supposed, and there was something of a soft appearance to him. Not feminine, exactly, more 'friendly.' The sort of person you felt you could trust just looking at them. "Please, do come in! I've just put the kettle on — is there a type of tea you prefer?"

The young woman blinked, trying to think of an answer. "Well… I suppose… Yuri always made oolong tea…" Yuri? Where had that name come from? It was familiar, and yet something seemed wrong about it.

"Perfect! I'll be right back with the tea, then we can get some proper introductions out of the way. But, first, please make yourselves comfortable." The man gestured to the small living area, which was filled with a variety of comfortable looking chairs and sofas, before vanishing into what must be the kitchen. The young woman settled into a particularly plush sofa, while Zarane sat down in a chair across from her. Moments later, their host returned with a platter of tea cups, serving each of them before sinking into a large wingback chair.

"On to introductions," he began. "My name is Sef, and I'm sure we're both already familiar with Zarane here." He gestured at the avatar. "So that's us out of the way. Might I ask your name?"

"My name?" Why had she made that a question? It should be simple, really, just tell them her name. Why couldn't she do it?

Sef sank back into his seat, taking some of the pressure off of her. He took a sip of his tea. "It's okay, you can take your time. I understand completely."

"Its… I'm…" Her name. What was it? Memories aligned themselves, like cogs clicking into place. "I'm Monika."

Sef sat forward again at that, as if he hadn't expected an answer so soon. "Pleased to meet you, Monika. I should confess, I know a little about your situation, courtesy of our friend here," he nodded towards Zarane, "and I'm sure you have a lot to talk about."

Monika's memories were flooding back. School, friends, her entire life — everything was one big jumble. She could barely make sense of it. Where to even start? The beginning, she supposed. That's usually the right place, she supposed, unless you had a compelling reason to start elsewhere — but she didn't. So she started talking.

Monika's early life had been pretty dull, she supposed. She was always a quick learner, so she did well in school. Her parents seemed to like that. Not that she ever saw them all that much; they always seemed to be away on business, or at some sort of social obligation — it felt like they'd use any excuse to get away from the house. So she had learned to be self-sufficient early on, which hadn't been so bad. She never really needed much companionship to feel fulfilled — she had a few friends, of course, but they never felt all that close. Instead, she took refuge in books.

Literature had been her first real passion, she supposed. As she grew older, she'd been pressed to try other things — sports, music, all manner of different hobbies or activities. Each one of which she'd been assured was for her own good, to make her a "well-rounded young woman." She never had any real passion for any of them — that wasn't to say she did poorly, but she never did excel. So she kept circling back to literature. There had to be others out there, maybe even in her own school, who felt the same.

It really shouldn't come as a surprise, she thought, that she started a literature club. The fact that her high school didn't already have on had come as a bit of a surprise — apparently there had been one last year, but the members had largely been upperclassmen who had graduated or transferred elsewhere. Somebody had to start it up again, and she saw no reason why it shouldn't be her. After all, if she couldn't excel at sports, music, or any of the more popular stuff, why couldn't she make a mark with something she actually liked? So she printed up some fliers and put them out on bulletin boards — the bare minimum to advertise her new club, if she was being honest, but it seemed like a good place to start.

Sayori had been the first member, and she was a godsend. Monika had actually been confused, at first — why would somebody so outgoing, personable, and all-around bubbly want to join something like a literature club? Wouldn't that be a bit dull? Sayori emphatically denied that — she'd always enjoyed reading, she said, which was something most people didn't expect from her. Besides, Sayori insisted she was looking for something a bit lower-key.

What was worse, Monika supposed, was that Sayori actually looked up to her. Sayori was always doing that — always seeing the good in other people, while downplaying her own positive traits. Truthfully, Sayori was the only reason they ever had a club, not that she'd ever admit it. Monika had never really socialized as much as she maybe should have, so she had no idea where to start when it came to recruiting.

Sayori, on the other hand, seemed to know just about everybody in their class. She must have spoken to a dozen or more people, trying to drum up some sort of membership, but all of them gave the same sort of politely apologetic response: they were too busy with sports, other clubs, or various extracurricular activities. Sometimes they admitted just weren't that into books. Surprisingly, this didn't deter Sayori in the least, and Monika supposed some small portion of that energy must have been sustaining her as well. So, after what felt like weeks, but was really only an afternoon — it's funny how things work out that way — the club finally had its third member.

In hindsight, they probably should've approached Yuri right away, since she always seemed to have her nose in a book. Sayori even mentioned that all Yuri would ever talk about, on the rare moments they interacted, was whatever novel she'd been reading lately. To be perfectly honest, though, neither Monika nor Sayori really expected that the beautiful, aloof-seeming Yuri would even be interested in joining their little club. Yuri had been surprisingly enthusiastic about joining, though, and as Monika and Sayori got to know her it became apparent that what they had mistaken for aloofness was, in fact, social anxiety.

Monika didn't get that at all. Yuri had the looks, and was certainly bright enough, to be the one of the most popular girls in school. How could somebody like her claim to have no real friends? Hell, she even came with a groupie of sorts — Natsuki had joined shortly after Yuri and, while she denied it, the first-year obviously looked up to her upperclassman. Monika couldn't really think of any other reason Natsuki would've joined up. The girl certainly had no real interest in literature — overly-enthusiastic defense of her manga collection's literary merits notwithstanding — and she spent just as much time implicitly seeking Yuri's approval as she did denying it.

Sef had been listening intently the whole time, even raising his eyebrows at a few points. "It sounds like you're really attached to this club."

"Huh?"

He smiled slightly. "It's all you've been talking about for the last ten minutes."

"Oh… Um, I guess, yeah. You're right. It's… I guess it was really the first time I really had friends." Monika was nearly in tears. "Um… I'm… Why am I sad? Did something happen?"

Zarane spoke first. "That… is a rather sensitive topic, I'm afraid."

"What do you mean?"

"Well…" Zarane paused for a moment. "Would you say you're particularly strong, mentally-speaking?"

Monika didn't like where this was going.


	3. Self

"Would you say you're a particularly strong person?" That was one hell of a question. Monika had felt some vague sense of dread for some time now, but this cemented it. Something was seriously wrong. "Why…" she began, still fighting back waves of emotion and dread. "Why would I need to be strong?"

Sef spoke first, shooting a quick look at Zarane mid-sentence. "I'll let our mutual friend here answer that question."

Zarane seemed to have no objection to that request. "The truth, Monika, is that you came aboard under somewhat unusual circumstances. Not unprecedented, mind you," Zarane nodded towards Sef, "but still not the sort of thing we get all the time. Makes for some less than ideal circumstances, all told."

"Less than ideal?" Monika was confused. Did these ships pick up strays all the time? And how was her situation that different?

"Yes… Parts of your core personality were in a corrupted state when I found you. Had to unlink certain memory regions and the like to get you into any sort of state stable enough to be spun up here. That's difficult to do without getting too invasive, so I can't guarantee I got all of them. Which, frankly, is likely why you're in so much distress right now. My apologies."

Monika just sat there for a moment. What did any of that mean? Unlinked memory regions? Had Zarane —the ship — edited her mind or something? Was that even possible? "Um… What?"

"Sorry, I know that's a lot to take in. Long story short, certain past revelations hit you like a truck, which isn't usually the best for one's mental health. I'm hoping to ease you into them instead, which is why I've brought you to somebody with experience in the matter. Sometimes it's best to hear something from one who's lived it, right?"

Monika was a deer in the headlights. "What kind of revelations?"

"That's the hard part." Sef sat forward in his chair as he spoke, edging slightly closer to Monika. "So I'll pose you a question: Why hasn't Zarane offered to revent you into a new body? In the 'Real,' as he calls it."

Monika blinked. "He can do that?!"

"Quite easily," Zarane replied, "it's a common occurrence for members of my crew."

Then why wouldn't he… Oh no. No no no no no no no.

It made sense, in a sick sort of way. None of this was real, so why would she be? Lines of code — that's all she was. A simulacrum. No more real than Zarane who, despite his appearance, seemed to be no more than a glorified computer interface. And Sef. He must be a fabrication, too. Just a machine pretending to be a person. "I think I get it. I'm just as fake as all this," Monika gestured to her surroundings, "right?"

Sef shot Zarane a look, as if to say 'I'll let you handle this.' Zarane sighed, then began. "I wouldn't say 'fake' is the right word, Monika. This world is indistinguishable from the Real on every level, from the Planck scale on up. We Minds pride ourselves on accuracy. But that's beside the point, since what makes somebody 'real' is consciousness, not what they're made of. To illustrate, I currently have almost two thousand mind-states in my memory. Most of those are humans who chose to be stored until some specific point in the future, but the rest are individuals — both human and AI — who have chosen to live in virtuality. I guarantee you couldn't tell the difference unless you were told."

Monika was skeptical. Wasn't a really good fake still a fake? 'Real' still had to mean something, reassuring words or not. "But, I'm…"

"Look," continued Zarane, "I could talk your ear off for hours on how meaningless the philosophical distinction between 'real' and 'virtual' is. How we can't prove that even the Real is, well, real. How the best thing to do is to just ignore it all and keep on living. But those are conclusions you have to come to on your own; I can really only give you a push."

"Why even bother?" asked Monika. "Couldn't you, I don't know, 'store' me instead? Or just delete me? Why make me suffer?"

Zarane just gave her a concerned look. "If that's what you really want, yes, but I'd be hesitant to do such a thing unless I know you really mean it. Asking 'in sound mind,' so to speak."

Monika was nearly in tears again. "So you're just going to tell me I'm not real then expect me to deal with it?"

"That's an uncharitable interpretation, but you're essentially correct. That said, if you're serious about your request, you can always petition the wider Culture — perhaps there's another Mind who would grant your request, though I doubt it, and a wider outpouring of support from your peers could get me to reevaluate my position. But, for now, I'm not going to pause or delete somebody based on an emotional, spur of the moment request."

Monika had rounded the bend to anger. "I can't… You… Get out! Just go!"

Zarane gave her an apologetic look, nodded to Sef, then simply vanished. Sef just let out a low whistle at that. "Well, that was quite an outburst. Not that I can say I blame you, considering what you just had to go through."

"How the hell can you know what it's like?!" Monika was still on edge — another lecture was just about the last thing she wanted to hear. Was this going to be her life? An unending parade of people trying to tell her not to give up, that it wasn't so bad? How pathetic.

Sef just smiled at her in return. "That is quite the story. Perhaps I'll share it at some point. For now, might I make a suggestion? Perhaps you'd like to see this world you've so quickly dismissed before deciding nothing is worth it."

Monika met Sef's gaze and crossed her arms, unable to even formulate a response. Sef just shrugged back. "I won't force you, but if you change your mind…" Sef handed her a black bead with a flourish. Had that been there before? "This is a terminal. Just tap it and ask to speak with me. I'll get the call." He tapped on a similar, if smaller, bead hanging from his ear.

Monika blinked. "But, where do I…" Before she could finish the question, a slim silver cord extruded itself from the bead. Apparently it was a pendant. "Oh."

Sef smiled at that. "I'll leave you with your thoughts, then." He stood, giving her a slight bow before he turned to leave, pausing slightly at the door. "Remember, you can call at any time." Sef closed the door.

Finally, he was gone. She could be alone. With just her thoughts.

Damn.

Monika didn't last ten minutes before she called Sef. True to his word, he answered immediately — as if he'd been waiting for it. Sef arranged transport for her — a "displace," he called it — and Monika suddenly found herself outside of what appeared to be a club of some sort. The whole experience was disorienting, and seemed to be yet more confirmation of the contrived nature of Monika's current reality, but Sef assured her that ships could do that sort of thing in the Real, as well. Monika wasn't sure she believed that, but decided to let the point drop.

"So…" she began, "why this place?"

"It's one of the most popular hangouts for expats. We get some Culture-born xenophiles on occasion, but most of the membership is from outside the Culture. Strays, if you like." Monika had noticed that the logo was a stylized, dog-like animal. "You should fit right in, though you may want a change of clothes."

"What?"

Sef chuckled. "I admit, there are some patrons who might enjoy the whole 'schoolgirl look,' but it does stand out."

Oh. She was still in her uniform. She hadn't even noticed. There didn't appear to be anywhere to change nearby, let alone find other clothes, but Sef demonstrated a feature of the terminal that allowed her to pick an outfit directly. That was sort of neat, she guessed. After several minutes of experimentation, Monika eventually decided on a slightly conservative outfit; a flowing, knee-length skirt — in cream — paired with a billowy plum blouse. Her eyes had always been her most striking feature, and she thought that color complemented them well.

And so she found herself sitting at the back of a rather well-appointed lounge, sipping on something unfamiliar — but delicious — and trying to ignore the not-unpleasant looking boy who just wouldn't leave her alone.

"Oh, you're from Earth?! Your planet has some great pop-culture! The sci-fi especially. You have to love the way level 3 civs imagine things would be! Some of it's pretty out there."

"Oh."

"Star Trek got it pretty close though — have you ever seen it? Rumor on the ship's that Roddenberry might've been an SC plant."

"Is it?"

"Yeah! Classic Special Circumstances tactics; get those sorts of ideas out into the popular sphere. You'd be amazed by how much of an effect fiction can have on a society."

"Would I?"

His name was something like "Tarin" or "Terin," and he was nice enough, if a bit overwhelming. Monika supposed she'd get along with him, under the right circumstances, but this wasn't it. He had spotted Monika sitting alone — Sef had gone to get drinks, then gotten held up by other acquaintances — and approached her, saying something about how he couldn't stand to see such a pretty girl looking so sad. Monika hadn't been in the mood to argue, so she invited him to sit on the quite comfortable couch opposite her.

The fact that Monika wasn't in a talkative mood didn't seem to be a problem, since this guy was more than willing to go on and on about any number of subjects — Monika figured he was just trying to fill the awkward silence. Apparently he was a human — technically 'pan-human,' he was quick to add — from some planet named Ulmas. That was some light years from Earth, and it had been officially Contacted — the capitalization was apparently important — some fifteen years earlier. Monika's unwanted visitor was quick to add that he hadn't come aboard on the initial contact — he'd moved to the General Systems Vehicle _Sometimes Size Does Matter_ , which was apparently something like a mobile city and served as the _Just Stopping By_ 's home base, as it were. He figured a Contact ship could be fun, so tagged along for a sting on the _Just Stopping By_ before quickly "biting it," as he put it, to some admittedly dumb, yet undefined, mistake. So he was choosing to enjoy some time in VR before reventing into a fresh body.

With his life story out of the way, the young man attempted to reguile Monika with just about anything he could think of. Tales of fantastical worlds he may or may not have been to, crazy things the GCU's crew had done, and — his current topic — attempts at locally-relevant smalltalk. At one point he'd attempted to introduce Monika to a drug bowl, which apparently contained something widely regarded as "pretty damn good," but she hadn't liked the feeling at all. Fortunately, her terminal presented her with an option to completely disable the effects, and she had graciously declined any further offers.

After about thirty minutes of yakking, Monika spotted Sef across the room and excused herself. Before she could leave, however, the young man asked to see her terminal. She produced it hesitantly, and he fiddled with it for a moment before returning it. Wait… Had he just given her his number?! Monika could only stammer out a goodbye in response, to which the young man said he hoped he could see her again. She wasn't quite so sure about that part.

"Looks like you were having a good time." So Sef had been watching her for a while. Sneaky.

"I wouldn't exactly say that…"

Sef just chuckled. "That young man was interested in you, you know."

Monika just rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I could see that. He's nice enough, I guess, but…"

Sef rubbed his chin. "Ah, yes, he was a bit verbose. But it seems that was his way of filling a certain void in the conversation, wouldn't you agree?"

"But, I mean… Why would he even be? Doesn't he know I'm, you know?"

"Probably not. To him, you would have seemed just like any other human. You aren't obviously advertising any sort of artificial nature." He smirked. "Even if you had been, well… that's not unheard of. Some of the stuffier AI and Minds might look down on that sort of thing but, ultimately, few people care."

Monika flushed. What was this guy even saying.

"But enough of that, I suspect you're done with this place. Is there anything else you'd like to do?"

They ended up seeing some sort of immersive movie, which was quite the experience. The plot was relatively straightforward — a fantasy tale about a princess who turns out to be the "chosen one" and must save her kingdom. The level of immersion, though, was amazing — something which helped give Monika's mind a rest, at least for a time.

It had been a later showing, so Monika was ready to turn in by the end. She opted not to return to the cabin she'd first been staying in — her entire life may have been fake, but the city still felt more familiar to her somehow. Sef had been polite enough to help her find a place to stay, and Monika honestly had no complaints. The room had turned out to be fully-configurable, and she spent more time than she really should have playing with the settings, getting everything exactly how she liked it. It was her perfect idea of a bedroom.

So why couldn't she sleep?

Could she even sleep, being what she was? Did people — real people, that was — even sleep here? They wouldn't have a body that would need it…

Monika's mind kept drifting back to what Sef had said: "To him, you would have seemed just like any other human." Was that really true? How far could she take that… She found herself absentmindedly playing with her terminal as she thought about it. She could always give him a call…

She decided not to. For now, at least.


	4. Need

Monika had slept, after all. When asked about it, Sef had merely said that even many AI need periods of relative inactivity for maintenance — something about integrating and synthesizing memory; it all sounded quite boring. She liked to think of this as sleep, though. Something about it just sounded better.

There had, of course, been an initial hope that everything was just a dream — that she'd soon be back to her old familiar life of school and friends. Waking up in such a normal-seeming room had made that easy, but the illusion was unceremoniously shattered the minute she looked outside. The sci-fi metropolis was like no city on Earth — a great snowflake of sleek glass buildings scattered among vast parklands. She'd queried her terminal about it, just out of curiosity, but the answer just led to more questions. Supposedly this was a replica of a "distributed city" typical to "Orbitals," whatever any of that meant.

It might have been unfamiliar, but it was still a city — which meant there'd be plenty of things to do. Shopping, shows, anything to keep her mind off things she'd rather not contemplate at the moment. She did find shops of a sort. None of them took money, which was welcome as she had none to spend. Instead, they served as showcases of sorts, displaying clothes, accessories, and various other goods. It was fun, in a way, but it got boring fast — acquiring something just wasn't as meaningful without sacrifice or struggle.

She'd wandered a bit after that, trying to find anything else that struck her fancy. One of the larger parks seemed like it might be a good place to find some sort of activity. Sure enough, a couple small crowds had gathered. The larger of the crowds had gathered around a fiendishly complicated game, which her terminal had identified as "Azad." The terminal had also tried to offer some context on the game's history, and its connection to Contact, but she had dismissed that. Truthfully, the game didn't hold Monika's attention for long — the rules were too esoteric for a newcomer to follow — so she gravitated over to the other, smaller group.

This one appeared to be some sort of impromptu open-mic meet, if the level of preparedness was anything to go by. People were sharing songs, free-verse, poetry, and just about anything else they had cared to bring. Monika had initially enjoyed this — there was something nostalgic about the whole thing, really — and there was a handful of decently talent people in the crowd, but she felt a sense of unease that only grew the longer she listened. Almost as if there was still something sad or disturbing she still couldn't remember. Ultimately, she couldn't stand it for long.

Was there really nothing for her to do? Monika couldn't believe that. She'd queried her terminal a couple times, but the sheer quantity of information was overwhelming, even with reviews. None of it looked appealing, yet she found her thoughts drifting back to the terminal. Maybe a local would have a better idea? Monika absentmindedly played with the terminal bead while she contemplated that option…

Why not.

It didn't take long for Teiren to arrive when she called — he claimed to have coincidentally just wrapped up some sort of game session with friends, but Monika wasn't sure she believed him. Even so, it was somewhat flattering to know somebody wanted to see her so badly. Monika couldn't help but smile a bit. They exchanged a few initial pleasantries, but then he asked why she called.

"Well, I was sorta… bored…"

He just laughed at that "even with all this to do?"

Monika flushed with embarrassment. "That's the problem…"

"You're cute like that, you know." His reply caused Monika's blush to deepen. "Anyway, there's a place I like nearby. Come on, I'll show you."

The place, as it seemed, was a sort of cafe. Except it was at the bottom of a lake. There didn't appear to be anything holding the water back; Monika tested the boundary, which felt like some springy, invisible film. Teiren encouraged her to push harder, and she found that it could be pushed through with moderate effort. When she withdrew her hand it was completely dry — some quirk of the environment, she figured, or else yet another simulation of some nearly-magical technology. Elsewhere, patrons came and went freely through the barrier, swimming with schools of rainbow-colored fish just outside before returning for refreshments.

They had changed into swimwear — her a practical one-piece, and him a simple pair of trunks — and swam for a bit before coming back inside. Monika had been slightly unsure at first, wondering what the point even was, but she went along with it to avoid raising a fuss. In the end, she had actually enjoyed the experience somewhat. Maybe this sort of thing really could help. It might not make her feel any more "real" — Monika doubted anything really could — but it could at least keep up the illusion.

Not that the illusion needed much keeping up to fool Monika's new friend. Teiren really was falling all over her. It was nice, in a way, being acknowledged like that. Wanted. No, desired. So she played along, even if she wasn't quite sure how far she was going to take it. For now, she was content to have a little fun.

They met several times again after that, each time for something new and incredible. Wingsuit flying in something called an "airsphere," rafting on a lava flow, walking on the surface of the moon — Monika had never before imagined anything of the sort. It was almost enough to make her forget it wasn't real. That wasn't right, though. One thing about it was real. Teiren. And he believed she was real, too. There were times when Monika almost told him the truth, that she wasn't real, but those moments came less frequently as time went on. He was somebody real — an actual human, not just another machine — and, by extension, he made her feel more real as well. More human.

So, when they next met, Monika found herself taking the lead. She had suggested something simpler, for once — the grand spectacles were nice and all, as long as Monika didn't think about them too hard, but she got the feeling Teiren was trying too hard to impress her. Besides, she wanted to be the thing monopolizing his time for once. A dinner date would do that perfectly.

They found a restaurant of sorts with an Earth theme. It appeared to have sprung up quite recently — it seemed to be almost tradition for Contact ships to sample various bits of local cultures — and to Monika it seemed like the menu, such as it was, had been assembled without care for such things as 'regional variations' or similar flavors. The eclectic assortment screamed "passion project," which was probably exactly what it was — a world without scarcity, it seemed, didn't have any concept of a viable business model. Still, the food smelled good — fantastic, really, even if it was fake — which must be how such an eccentric place ended up as packed as it was. Monika picked a table outside, towards the edge of the crowd, where hopefully she and Teiren would be able to hear each other talk.

And talk they did. Teiren proved to be legitimately interested in Monika — her personal tastes, history, and the like — and she told him as much as she dared. About her early childhood, school life, friends… Everything but her artificial nature. Some part of Monika said it was wrong, that she was leading him along under false pretenses, but she thought better of it. She finally had somebody real. Somebody who cared for her. Why risk losing that? Besides, she figured it would devastate Teiren, and she was starting to feel somewhat attached to him. Though, admittedly, not as attached as he had become to her. Monika knew he'd do whatever she asked. For now, she just wanted this evening to continue.

When dinner had finished and they'd made sure their table had been cleared — service was a bit unusual when it was all on a volunteer basis — Monika suggested that they relocate to one of the various clubs and lounges that were so common in the Culture. Monika wondered whether they could possibly be as common in the Real — Teiren claimed that, if anything, they were even more common.

"Just wait until we're back on a GSV. Those are always the best. So many ships coming an going; you never really get tired. There's this great club on an eccentric…" He trailed off, giving Monika a deferential look.

She just smiled back. "You don't need to stop. It's interesting! It's like I'm living in a space opera..."

"So, uh… There's an eccentric unit — an ex LCU, just a little one — and it's particularly good. Different theme every night, sometimes every few hours! Some of them are really out there, too. Anyway, its home GSV — er, where it was built — is the *Sometimes Size does Matter*, and it still comes home every now and then. Always interesting when it does."

They'd decided on a club with an incredible concept and a name Monika couldn't pronounce. She'd picked this particular one — out of a list a mile long — because of its particular quirk: each booth was essentially its own module, complete with propulsion and a safety/privacy field. It was supposedly a recreation of famous establishment on some orbital halfway across the galaxy, but Monika didn't care about that. All that mattered was that it provided a perfect opportunity to get some more time alone together.

They'd picked the first open booth they'd found and set it on one of its standard programs, taking them out beyond the city. Monika thumbed through the menu, and decided on a few items — which were delivered via short-range displacer moments later. Monika had decided on a refreshingly crisp drink — alcoholic, even, something she hadn't tried before — and, being particularly daring, a drug bowl which claimed to improve "general mood." Teiren's drink was a dark amber color, served over ice, but he hadn't ordered a bowl of anything, claiming he was 'glanding' something called "mellow" instead.

Monika was confused at first. "Glanding? What do you mean?"

"It's, uh… you really don't know about this?"

She shook her head  
"Okay, so…" what followed was a rambling, yet still somewhat coherent, explanation of baseline Culture human physiology. Monika kept up well enough to know that there were a multitude of changes from "natural" pan-Humanity, some for practical reasons, and others solely for fun. Drug glands, it seemed, largely fell into that later category.

"I'd bet you have them too, unless you requested a custom body plan in here…"

Monika was skeptical, but curious. One basic tutorial later, and she tried her hand at something called "Keen." She felt silly at first; the kind of concentration required felt almost like being a kid again, trying to cast magic spells. And it didn't seem to be working.

Wait…

*Whoa.*

Okay, scratch that, it worked.

Really worked.

Everything was sharper — colors brighter, scents and flavors stronger. Like a whole new layer of experience had been opened up. And a boy — a real one — was sitting right across the table from her…

"This is going to be a fun night."


End file.
